


Flow

by ultraviolence



Series: in the arms of the ocean (mermaidverse) [5]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Merpeople, Ficlet, Fluff and Crack, Interspecies Romance, Kissing, M/M, Mild Angst, Prompt Fill, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-14
Updated: 2017-12-14
Packaged: 2019-02-14 18:25:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13013574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ultraviolence/pseuds/ultraviolence
Summary: Prompt from Twitter: "Mermaids understand that humans can drown via liquid consumption. However, this can result in unintended panic."It's just another day out on the sea with Tarkin and Krennic. Krennic is being clingy. Tarkin needs a drink, Krennic couldn't understand. Things happened. AU. Inspired by Ripple, set after that, but before Deluge and the others.





	Flow

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Ripple](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12838389) by [ArgentGale](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArgentGale/pseuds/ArgentGale). 



> [This](https://twitter.com/Loudwindow/status/939738779799007233) is the original prompt. Somehow it turned into...this. I fully blamed wilhuffs and ArgentGale on Twitter. Also, I know nothing about fishing, so I apologise in advance.
> 
> Enjoy!

It was a clear November day, out on the open waters. The sun peeked shyly from behind her retinue of clouds, a lady showing herself sparingly, and the ocean clear with the waves calm and relatively tame. It was blue as far as the eyes can see, blue like the colour of memories, the blue of the ocean and the blue of the sky, merging in the distance like a marriage of mirages. The day had been very productive, and Tarkin lets himself relax for a little--even if he is not usually the kind of man who’d do that while he was still on open waters, although the shore is still obviously in sight, not to mention that he never slack on the job and abhors others who did so--after pulling in the last of day’s catch, allowing himself to sit on the deck, enjoying the faint but lukewarm sunlight and the unusual absence of cold winter breeze. It had been an unusually calm day, but a welcome one.

After a short while, he saw a ripple on the water, only a few small ones at first until they grew larger, and the surface of the water breaks. Krennic appeared almost as he did the first time, except that this time he wasn’t holding the end of Tarkin’s fishing line, and disturbed his job and his livelihood. Tarkin scoffed, privately, as he did so, in annoyance. The silly, haughty merman had his uses, but for the most part, his presence just annoyed Tarkin.

Krennic hauled himself up, positioned himself near Tarkin, arms on the deck, his great tail cutting swathes under the water, like a scythe and just as sleek, just as lethal. He tilted his chin up to better look at Tarkin, his eyes like the distant horizon, or a mirage, and he smiled, lazily.

“Swim with me?” he asked, a hint of command in his raspy voice. It took nearly all of Tarkin’s willpower to break eye contact and resisted not only Krennic’s mesmerizing eyes, but also his voice. After their initial encounter, Tarkin had researched what he could about Krennic’s kind, although most of them are old wives’ tale. Krennic looked at him, expectant, tail sloshing lazily in the water.

He’d made very very sure to impress it upon the merman that without Krennic’s magic--or whatever it was--he would drown if he went without air for too long. He still continued to avert Krennic’s gaze, fixing his eyes on some point on the horizon instead, reflecting on the day’s catch.

“Not today,” he told him, and he knows it annoys him because he could hear his tail splashing in the water.

There was silence, not only between them, but also between the sky and the sea, and Krennic eventually broke the short silence. “Come closer, then,” he said, sighing the words, and Tarkin felt the ship rocked for a bit, as Krennic hauled his torso out of the water. There was no commanding tone in there, no merpeople magic, just words. Tarkin spared him a glance.

“What is it, Krennic?” Tarkin asked, his annoyance slipping into his voice unnoticed like a small, silver fish. They had a bargain, although Tarkin knows that he’s free to cut himself free whenever he felt like it--magic or whatever be damned--and Tarkin was obligated to treat him politely, or at least something approaching that. He was tempted to annoy Krennic on purpose, but at the same time…

At the same time, damn his weak heart for being fond of this...this odd _beast_. Tarkin wasn’t even sure how to treat him, although, after his initial swim and meeting with him, he’d discovered that the merpeople had their own version of civilisation. But he’ll be damned if he was convinced that Krennic was a person that easily. It’s easier to believe otherwise, especially with his mesmerising eyes, his command of the ocean, and--he cast a glance at the water--that damned _tail_.

“I just want to talk,” Krennic said, his tail lashing, his eyes flashing with annoyance, mirroring Tarkin’s. “Is that so wrong? I’ve helped you a lot today. You should at least show appreciation of my efforts. It takes all my willpower and the better part of me to not just pull you in and drown you, you know,” he flashed his teeth, “and some of my kind _did_ eat humans. You’re not a proper sailor, but you’ll do, to them.”

Now Tarkin was annoyed, properly so. “Fine,” he grumbled, taking his seat beside him carefully, taking off his shoes and rolled up his breeches before he did so. The water was cold, numbingly so, but Krennic murmured approval and moved closer. “This good enough for you?”

Surprisingly, the other not only moved closer, but also put his head in Tarkin’s lap, wrapping his arms loosely around his waist, nuzzling closer. It was surprising not only because of the deep intimacy of the gesture, but also the trust implicit in it, and Tarkin discovered that strangely, he doesn’t really mind. In fact--although he’d never admit it--he liked it, and he instinctively threaded his fingers through Krennic’s hair, damp as it was, and smelled like the sea. Everything about him smelled like the sea and reminded Tarkin of the high tide, except for his eyes. His eyes reminded Tarkin of the sky above the ocean, at that point in the horizon where it blurred into a mirage.

Krennic lets out a murmur of pleasure. “Tell me more stories,” he demanded, bumping his head, gently, on the flat of Tarkin’s stomach. “About the land. You told me about the buildings last time. I want to know more. What are they _really_ like? Can you really build things on land? Can you build things without magic?”

At this, Tarkin lets out a laugh, not _at_ Krennic, but at the innocence of his questions. Krennic was demanding in return for his help, but most of it was surprising. Like this, for instance. He seemed to have an insatiable curiosity about Tarkin and the land, and he asked a lot of questions about it. It gets to the point where Tarkin had to open his father’s old books to answer Krennic’s questions.

He quirked a smile, unconsciously. “Well, there’s quite a variant of them, and you probably had to see for yourself to really know what they were really like, Krennic,” he told him, running his fingers through his hair. “And yes, we can build things without magic. In fact,” his smile is wry now, “most of us would not believe it if you tell them that you can build things underwater. With magic, nevertheless.”

Krennic pulled back and Tarkin lets him, just so he could look up at him, and tilted his head curiously. “Really? So you don’t believe that magic existed, Tarkin?”

A half-smile touched his lips. “It’s really more complicated than that, Krennic,” he told him, and another silence passed between them, uncomplicated and innocent, nearly as straightforward as Krennic’s questions about the land (Tarkin knows there must be more to that than just mere curiosity, because he knows Krennic was a _king_ , and all the old wives’ tales has shown that merpeople are not to be trusted), and Tarkin felt the _jolt_ of it, felt the pull. He quickly shifted his gaze and, despite himself, gently pushing the other away. “Well, it’s really been quite a productive day, and I thank you for your help,” it sounded less awkward in his head, he thought, “but for now, I think I must go home. Look at you,” he told him, gruffly but with a hint of affection that he can’t help but show, “you’ve made my breeches all wet. I wouldn’t know what to say when I dock.”

He could feel the other frown, but contrary to Tarkin’s expectations, that frown turned upside-down and then into a small grin. “If you say so, Wil. I may call you Wil, right? Bring more stories tomorrow, and I’ll show you where all the good fishing spots are,” he said, again a little more commanding this time, and Tarkin scowled at him at the nickname but didn’t scold him. He sighed instead. “Alright? Bring more stories tomorrow. You didn’t really answer my questions today.”

“I need a drink,” Tarkin mumbled, pushing the clingy merman away and hauled himself up, leaving Krennic for a bit to fetch himself some water from the cabin. He could feel Krennic’s eyes on him the moment he left the cabin, confused and scared all at once.

“What’s wrong?” he asked him, catching his gaze for a bit before he took the plunge and took a large gulp of it, wishing it was alcoholic. He might go to the pub tonight. Well, not just might, but _definitely_.

“Didn’t you say you can’t stay in the water for long because you might drown if you consume too much of the water?”

Tarkin raised an eyebrow, failed as of yet to see the connection. “Well, yes. I do not think I see your point, Krennic. But I hope I did not fail to impress that upon you.”

“But-” Krennic’s blue eyes went wide. “You just drank quite the amount of water. Aren’t it going to kill you? Or is it okay because you’re on land, technically speaking?”

Tarkin nearly spits out his drink. He once more forgot that Krennic was still very much different than him in a lot of important ways, despite his appearance from the waist up--discounting the gills--and he cursed himself mentally for that. He wanted to laugh but restrained himself, and it came out as a cough instead. Krennic’s eyes widened a little bit more, and the splash in the water means that he’s this close to climbing the deck and tore the glass from Tarkin’s hand, even if it’s by no means easy for him to do so. Tarkin doesn’t know how he knows that, he just did, and he cursed himself mentally even more for being, well, _fond_ , of this silly merman.

“I’m fine, Krennic, no need worrying your scales off,” he told him, going back to the cabin to put back the glass. When he comes back, Krennic was glaring at him.

“I don’t have _scales_ ,” he said, obviously pissed off, “I’m not some common fish. Are you going to explain or do I have to figure this out myself?”

Tarkin smirked. He really doesn’t feel like explaining to a silly merman about humans and water, and the basics of human biology. “Figure it out yourself. You said you’re not some common fish,” he said, to Krennic’s obvious annoyance, “that means you have more than enough intelligence to figure it out.”

“Well, curse _you_ ,” Krennic said, bristling, “Wil, you bastard. How hard is it to explain it to me? Don’t tell me you’re stupid. I generally disliked stupid humans.”

Again, Tarkin wanted to laugh, but gave him something of a teasing smile instead, and stepped closer. His first mistake. His second mistake was to sit where he was before. “No, I’m not stupid. You know that. Now, don’t be so difficult--”

“You’re the one being difficult,” Krennic snarled, reached out to him, and the next thing Tarkin knows, he was underwater. Well, _Krennic_ pulled him underwater. He reached for the surface and, to his surprise, Krennic lets him, but once he does, he felt the other pulled him close, Krennic's lips on his--

A strangely familiar yet alien sensation. Krennic laughed afterwards.

“See? I told you, _you_ were the one being difficult, Wil,” he said, and Tarkin knows he should have climbed to his boat right there and then, he knows that he should have pulled away, but instead of doing that, he pulled Krennic again for another kiss, his hands instinctively seeking his neck as the other pulled him closer by the waist. He shivered, not only because of the cold water but also because of the _closeness_ of the other, and he felt Krennic’s tail wrapped around one of his legs, an unmistakable gesture, and Tarkin felt himself kissing him harder, feeling a familiar tightening inside his breeches--

And he pushed him away at the very last second, disgusted at himself for even considering it. Krennic raised an eyebrow, for he, too, felt the unmistakable connection and _attraction_ between them, Tarkin was certain of it, but he paid him no heed. He pushed Krennic away and climbed to the deck. Krennic lets him.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he merely said, shivering in his now-soaked clothes but tried not to show it. Tarkin was thankful that he kept some clean clothes in the cabin. He had his back turned on him, but he could imagine the look on Krennic’s face, the tilt of his head, the way his blue eyes flashed and gleamed with emotions that he sometimes still couldn’t understand.

“Yes,” Krennic merely said in return, and Tarkin was grateful and disappointed at the same time. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Tarkin.”

There were a splash and a ripple, and he was gone. Tarkin felt a certain sort of disappointment settling inside his chest.

But at least they would see each other again.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, comments & suggestions welcome! <3


End file.
